Next Turn on the Right
by Shirahoshi
Summary: Loki fell, indeed; but to Thanos' pech and to his luck(?), with some help from Fate, he switched a mad Titan for two thugs.
1. Chapter 1

He didn't know when had he closed his eyes.

Or if they were closed at all.

The Void played such tricks with you once you entered it.

First, you started questioning whether anything could exist outside of here.

Then you start questiong your own existence. But you know that you must _be_, for the cold is never ending, and if you are _not_, then you could not feel it.

Something slimy and ancient reached out for him from between the branches of Yggdrasil, but he slipped past the tendrils of its power, to his relief. The sensation made him feel like he himself was _unclean_.

Great Norns, will this fall never end?

It did.

In a hard, shocking crash agains something not entirely solid but not soft either, which shook him to the very soul, and almost broke his spine.

He welcomed it wholeheartedly. It meant that he still did possess a body.

"You think he survived that?" said a voice from far afar.

"I'm Groot," came a deeper voice. That's what it sounded like. But that's not what was _said_.

"I agree. Hey! If you'rte still kicking, give some sign of that! He isn't moving, he's a goner for sure."

"I am _Groot_."

"All right, all right you big softie!" the first voice grumbled.

He wanted to scream, to fight as his eyelid was pried open and the light assaulted the iris which was used to the endless night by now. But the most he could produce was a weak groan.

The animal flashed his teeth in a grin.

"Groot! You were right!"


	2. Chapter 2

"So, you got a name? Someone in that fancy clothing must have a name. And as Groot saved you from leaving this Hell as a smudge in the dirt, you owe us that much."

Loki blinked at the animal. He - it was definitely a he - reminded the Jötunn of an animal he had seen a long time ago somewhere.

A raccoon of Midgard. Except, this one was quite talkative, while those definitively did not possess the ability of speech.

A paw-hand was waved in front of his face.

"Somebody in there? Hey, man, don't you die on us now. You owe us big..."

His mind cascaded into a blank darkness.

But this time there was no pain.

* * *

><p>When he woke again, it was to warmth. A welcome change, and true enough, when he opened his eyes there was a purple fire jumping happily on the periphery of his vision.<p>

"I'm Groot."

If he could've jumped out of his skin, he would've. But giving out a surprised yelp was all he managed to do.

A face he saw before bent above him; and the soft thing underneath him moved as well.

They were leaves, he realised.

Which meant, that this was a floral colossus. But they were supposed to be extinct...

"He's asking if you're all right," the rodent said, hugging a huge blaster to himself. He cracked an eyelid open, just barely,"You should thank him."

Loki turned, as slowly as possible to minimise the pain.

"He's the only reason we dragged you along, you know. Otherwise he'd be whining for three months straight."

"Is that so," he whispered. His mouth had apparently forgotten how to form the words. "Thank you."

Something like happiness lit up the tree-creature's face.

"Where are we?"

"Few planets away from Xandar."

Xandar? That's a long way from Asgard, even further than Midgard. Just how long had he been in the Void?

"Where'd you fall from?"

"None of your concern. Far away."

The raccoon squinted his eyes and sniffed into the air.

"You're a Jötunn, aren't you? One of the few capable of surviving such things as having a trip in the space without protection."

Loki craned his neck.

"How did you..."

"You might appear human, but you can't fool my nose. A tiny giant," he gave a laugh. Loki scowled.

"Thanks for noticing," he rasped out, forgotten anger bubbling up in his chest like lava.

"I am Groot."

"I most certainly don't want to make you ice cubes."

"You understand what he says?" The godling glanced up at the surprised face of the animal, who had by now put the blaster aside. He nodded, then regretted the movement as sharp pain bit into him like lightning.

"Mostly, yes."

"No way. The All-tongue?" the raccoon flashed all his teeth, grinning, "A Jötunn, in disguise, raised on the golden realm of Asgard. Never thought something like this is possible. What's your name?"

"Loptr," he said without thinking.

"Rocket. Big fella behind you is..."

"I am Groot."

"I know," he forced himself into sitting position. They sat like that for a few minutes, in silence, before the raccoon spoke.

"Usually I don't consider teaming up with strangers capable of surviving a fall like that, even if it was with our help," He looked at him, "But if you want to come, do so. We'd have use for someone like you, in our sort of profession. Near-indestructible is always good."

"Do you, now?" he said, rubbing at his eyes which hurt more and more as the suns rose higher on the horizon slowly.

"As you've seen, Groot is not exactly a plant of words, and for some strange reason, people usually are rather suspicious of me. Or they want to take me for a fool, and I can't stand that. So what do you say?"

He looked at the two of them, one expectant, the other hopeful.

Then he thought about home. About Asgard, where they'd have held the fitting ceremonies by now, the room where Mother would be working on a tapestry with his favourite colours as was a tradition in her family after one's passing. About the All-father, tending to everyday business, making peace between two farmers, or two warring realms.

About the people, to whom it made no difference whether the second people lived or not, unlike their beloved Thunderer, who'd be off with his friends, adventuring across the stars.

What the Hel.

He could as well make the most of his situation.

"All right. So what's your profession?"

Rocket smiled a smile he knew all too well. It was one that promised trouble.

"Oh, nothing extraordinary. Just meddling in a bit of this, a bit of that... On a more serious matter. What's Asgard like? Never been there..."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Still trying to get a grip on Rocket's personality.<em>**


	3. Chapter 3

Manhunt was nothing he had never done before. Occasionally, as one of the best trackers of Asgard, he even led then.

Never in such a fashion, though"Get out of my way!" The A'askvarii shrieked, lifting a lightsaber high, leaving his stomach defenseless.

Loki took his chance and drove the dagger through the soft skin, then jerked it upwards.

The creature exploded, leaving him cowered in entrails and slimy green blood.

"Nice job, Loptr!" Rocket laughed, shooting off the head of the last bounty hunter from the other group.

The raccoon was rather against him using knives, thinking them too tiring, ineffective and problematic. However he was convinced after the first hunt together, that Loki wasn't bluffing when he said that's all he needs.

There was a grunting sound as Groot exited the building, with a bag on his back, from which something was desperately trying to get out.

"Are you sure you got the right one?" A nod. "Good. Let's get the money then let's get outta here."

* * *

><p>"To Loptr, without whom we would have sold him for only forty thousand units," Rocket said, lifting his glass high, full of suspiciously glowing blue liquid, "And to me, who had the fine idea of allowing him to stay with us."<p>

"I'm Groot."

"I said "allowing". I never said that it was my idea."

Loki grinned into his own drink, meadow-green with a touch of mint.

"Hey, hey! What're you laughing at?!"

"How dare you to accuse me of such evil?" he asked, mock-innocently, putting a hand over his heart, "I'd never ever think of doing such a thing! Laughin? Wickedest thing of all!"

"I am Groot," the floral colossus said, chuckling. Rocket's head whipped towards the behemoth.

"Oh, you take his side again, yeah? I'll be happy to leave you two alone! There are plenty who'd gladly work with me!"

"Yes?" Loki asked, feigning seriousness. He motioned towards the door. "Please, do so. Just be sure you leave our share here."

"Nah. You wouldn't survive a day. Especially not him," the raccoon said with a sigh, as Groot wandered over to a small pond full of fish, and watched them jump out of the water then fall back with a loud splash.

"Hey, do you ever miss it?"

Loki glanced up. The raccoon's eyes were slighty misty, and apparently he downed his drink in one big gulp.

"Miss what?"

"Home."

"Rocket, if you're going to get sentimental, I'm taking that drink from you."

"No, man, I'm dead serious. I mean... It has been so long since I've been home. And sometimes I'd just feel this pang, and then there is this sort of feeling... Uhh..."

"Homesickness," Loki offered helpfully, emptying the remains of the liquid in his glass. Rocket clapped.

"Yes! That. And I don't like it. Do you ever have it?"

"Homesickness? Not really, no." This was not exactly a lie. He did not miss Asgard, the golden halls, endless protocolls and the eyes burning with distaste every time somebody talked to him, but he did miss Frigga.

"Well, I do, and it sucks, I'm telling you. 'sides, I've got this mate, soul-mate Lylla. She's beautiful," he said in a dreamy voice.

The jötunn started to suspect that the drink wasn't entirely what they were supposed to give.

"Haven't seen her in a while. Hey, do you have a soul-mate?"

"I had, once. She died."

"Oh. Sorry." Loki shrugged.

"It was a long time ago. And when I say long time ago, I mean it." Rocket snorted, his whiskers moving up and down.

"Rub it once more under my nose, will ya? Anyway, I want... To..." Rocket's head hit the table with a quiet thud, and the rodent started snoring.

Loki pried the glass carefully from his hand, then sniffed at it. It was indeed ambrosia, but with something added which shouldn't have been. At least in a raccoon's case.

A roar erupted from the throat of a thing Loki had never seen before. Something silvery flashed and where his hand rested a moment ago, now a knife stood out from the table.

"Stupid wench!"

"I'm sorry!" shrieked a female voice. Groot grunted as he stood up from the pond. Loki cast a look at the knife, then followed his example.

A woman, a serving maid, was lying on the ground in fetal position, her hands clutching the back of her neck in a protective manner. Her blonde hair was stained by blood, pouring out of her.

A wave of familiarity hit him like the wind. He elected to not pay attention to it.

Men of all species and colours were standing around her, and women too, both the worst kind, shouting at the man pounding on her encouragingly.

Then, abruptly, he stopped as tendrils wrapped themselves around his body and lifted him off the ground. He made a futile effort to get free; but Groot simply tightened his clutch around him.

The woman whimpered in pain.

"Is there a problem here?" Loki asked lightly, with a smile. One male specimen - most probably the one in the colossus' loving embrace - spat.

"Non' o' yer concer'."

"Oh, but it is," he answered, holding up the knife, "It belongs to one of you, I presume; now if you'd kindly tell me why was my hand almost impaled to the table."

"Bugger o'."

A crunching sound could be heard, then the scream of the bloody-handed man. The mob took a few steps back.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"Bitch poured th' drinks o' us," the second man replied. Loki lifted an eyebrow in vague distaste.

"And for that, you decided to beat her to death. So... Civilised."

"Why th' hell do you car' about it? Your bitch, o' what?"

The dagger flew across the empty space, embedding itself in the grey-skinned creature's hand.

"She's not my _bitch_," he said, ignoring the wail of the Tasker; for he must have been one. Barely higher in the hierarchy than an errand boy. "She, however is a living and sentient being, capable of being tired. Which she must be, after serving the likes of you with a smile on her face," he motioned Groot to release the other Tasker. The floral colossus did so, albeit reluctantly, before he turned back to the crowd. "Now, leave."

"You a'r' gonna regret this."

"Actually, no, I won't."

It looked as if he still wanted to say something; but as Groot pulled himself to his full height, he decided against it. The crowd slowly dissipated as well. Loki knelt down next do the woman, putting a hand onto her shoulders, then scanned her vital signs with magic, ignoring the familiar feeling once more.

They were, thankfully, strong enough. Mild shock and a shallow injury on the side of her neck, mostly.

"It's all right now. You're safe. Everything is..."

The breath caught in his chest as the woman slowly turned.

Then, he breathed out.

"Sigyn."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Tasker is an errand boy who has to deliver packagesmessages between two warring planets. So they are valued a tiny bit more than simple errand boys._**


	4. Chapter 4

It was impossible.

She was dead. She was supposed to be dead.

He saw the corpse, damn the Norns!

And yet, here she was, living and breathing, even if in a state of fright. Her eyelids fluttered in confusion.

"You're alive," he said, bewildered, the words leaving his mout however impossible they sounded, "You're alive."

She blinked, her sentence came like a bucket of ice poured over his head.

"Do we know each other?"

"You don't... Know me?" Her mouth pulled into an uncertain embarrassed smile, her cheeks slowly turning a reddish colour.

He remembered this expression all too well. It was the same one when she met with Thor, or when she had accidentally knocked over one of his book-piles...

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, helping her up, his mind working frantically on a list of people who'd be capable of changing memories.

Because that was what it had to be. There was no way that Sigyn - _his_ Sigyn - could forget about the one who made her feel miserable so many times, when he arrived home full of scars, then tended to him, scolding him as she healed the injuries...

In the end, it was a very short list. Especially when he took into consideration, after a quick check, that it the spell was woven to be in-depth, not something that covered only the surface of her mind.

"Come with me. We should treat that wound."

"Ah, this?" she asked, lightly touching the injury, "No need, really. It'll heal soon."

"I _insist_."

"But I..." She left off abruptly, her pupils dilating, then, with a surprised little moan, she fell into Loki's arms.

His hand came away white from her neck. So the man was of a species with claws that contained a sort of venom. Effective enough to knock out Asgardians, and Sigyn was only half blood.

The sign however, that she was still alive, was a good one. Perhaps it was one of a tranquiliser sort, to numb the enemy.

"Groot," he said, waiting until the colossus finally paid attention to him, "I'm going back to the ship. Take care of Rocket, he knocked himself out good."

"I am Groot."

"Thanks, but no need."

He lifted Sigyn into a more comfortable position, then set off to find their transportation.

And hidden in some drawer behind the panels of it, his remaining Norn stones.

* * *

><p>They were just where he had left them.<p>

Mentally, he gave Groot and Rocket two extra points versus Thor, who had been left behind in the mental race by the two with three sad ticks.

The duo actually knew the meaning of personal space. Not like he wasn't asked whether something could be turned into a bomb, but the raccoon knew that _no_ was not a substitute word for _yes_.

He laid the unconscious woman down, after brushing away the litter of the past few days. It gathered up like dust, when there were no servants to clean up after him.

Excluding his vain need to make an impression, he had to earn the title God of Chaos somehow. And it didn't start by throwing the world into disorder.

Babysteps, as people on Midgard would say.

Luckily the stone did what it was supposed to do, unconcerned by the state of his room. Loki watched the torn skin knit together as the magic of the stone continued to work underneath, eliminating the venom. She breathed in deeply, the lines on her face ceasing.

The ship's door opened then forcibly shut from the sound of it.

"Get to the panel! Put on the..."

A slight tremor shook the spacecraft, then the AI announced that the shield were at ninety-five percent capacity.

"Just what the hell are they shooting at us with?!"

"I am Groot!"

"I know, I know!"

"Rocket!" Loki yelled as he stumbled from wall to wall while the ship ascended into the air.

"What?" the raccoon hissed as he turned a leveller then pushed a small green button. Something howled like a pained animal in the belly of the ship, then it jerked forwards.

"I am Groot!"

"You did what?!" the godling said in shock then almost fell as another beam hit the ship.

"_Shields at eighty-percent capacity_."

"I overreacted something a bit, okay? Groot, get to the guns, and you do something aboöut keeping the defenses up!"

The - apparently - offended party gave a hard chase, not entirely concerned about the safety of the civilians. Once or twice, they barely missed crashing into something massive; the chasers were not so lucky.

Then, half an hour, couple hundred curses and three exploded ships later they were out in open space, where the last remaining ship gave up the pursue.

Loki fell back into his seat, his magic completely drained.

The pursuers didn't exactly spare them the beams, and their shields wasn't exactly strong to begin with. Once or twice, it came dangerously close to fail; and Rocket turned out to be right. They did use some über-special beam, mixed with magic.

"Tell me... What the Hel was that about?"

"They called me an animal," Rocket sniffed. The Trickster lifted an eyebrow.

"Technically..."

"A filthy, stupid animal who parades around as if he'd be intelligent." The pieces fell into their place.

"Oh. I assume there was one left without a face and that's what they got so worked up over?"

"More or less, yes."

A high-pitched female scream cut into the low humming noise of the engines.


	5. Chapter 5

It took the better part of an hour calming Sigyn down and the rest with doing the same to Rocket.

"Oohh, so I can't defend myself, but then you just go and bring a woman here?"

"She was poisoned." The raccoon growled, his whiskers bristling.

"So what?"

"So I thought that if I have the means anyway, perhaps I could save her."

"Why? What is she to you?" Loki stood for a moment in silence, before speaking again.

"She's my wife."

"Your wife?" the animal asked, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief, "But you said she's dead."

"I thought her to be," the prince said as he ran a hand through his hair.

It desperately needed a good wash, he noted to himself wryly. "Somebody put great care into making it appear so. He even copied her signature resonance."

"Heh? So you know who did it?"

"My father." Groot grunted symphatetically. His partner simply frowned.

"Well... That's a bummer. But why would he do that?"

"It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it," Rocket said, expanding his hands in annoyance, "We have all the time in the universe. Well. You and Groot do." Loki chewed the inside of his mouth.

Should he or should he not?

"There is something I haven't told you. I'm not entirely sure how to..."

"And I didn't tell you that I hate the colour pink. Out with it." There were so many lies he could have spun in that moment.

He went with the truth.

"I am a prince of Asgard."

Of all the reactions; shock, anger, betrayal even; he didn't expect _laughter_.

Yet, Rocket did just that, slamming his paw-hands into his knees as he rocked back and forth, his voice filling the cabin. Groot looked at him disapprovingly, but he didn't appear to notice that.

"That's the joke of a century! You, prince of Asgard!" he chuckled, between two coughs of laughter, "His highness, the bounty hunter Lo... Lo..." his eyes went wide with realization, "Damn, you aren't joking, are you?"

"Curios. People believe my falsities, and they accuse me of lying when I say nothing but the truth."

"All right, boo-hoo, go on."

Loki started pacing back and forth in the small area, recalling the things long past. It was easier than he imagined; there were truly no need for lies with them.

Then why did he do it?

Ah, of course; somebody who nearly decimated an entire civilisation could expect to be wanted all around the universe.

"I was on a hunting trip with my brother. We were stupid. We got injured. Sigyn saved us."

"You fell in for her, married her and your old man didn't exactly give his blessings," Rocket finished with a nod.

"Understatement of the millenia. We were almost exiled. He calmed down somewhat after Mother had talked to him, still, he refused to acknowledge her. Not like it mattered with what being second son."

"That's rough. But what should we do with her? She doesn't know you, so..." Yes, that was indeed troubling. Then, an idea flickered in his mind.

"Say, how much fuel is left?"

"Enough for ten or eleven planets?"

"Good. Then we go to Earth." The rodent's ears perked up.

"Why?"

"Because I'd like to have a little chat with the All-father."

* * *

><p>The flame danced in front of him, just out of his hand's reach, turning from ruby red to golden then orange in a matter of seconds.<p>

It was one of the most basic spells, but still managed to successfully draw his attention away from the harshness of reality. Much like it used to do in his childhood; at least some things did not change.

For a moment he wondered how his mother was doing, but the thought was discarded almost immediately as the flame wavered, tiny sparks escaping it.

He let a long breath out and willed it to grow bigger. It responded to his thoughts immediately, doubling in size.

Then, a small cry sounded behind his back, followed by a hard _thud, _as one of his large and heavy books, possibly one of the rare copies as well, landed on the floor.

Loki sighed as he scampered into a standing position, stretching his stiff limbs, unbothered by Sigyn still in the position one assumes when trying to catch something.

And yes, as a matter of fact, it was a codex from which only three copies existed in the whole galaxy, and two in the neighbouring one.

Sigyn's lips pulled into a timid smile.

"Hi?"

"Hi."

"Sorry about the book."

"Master Avengelist knew something like this could happen," Loki said, picking up the leather-bound volume, "I'm quite certain they have taken more beating than the fall from a waist-high shelf."

"Oh," she looked lost, "Sooo. Were you doing magic?"

"I wad, indeed."

"Cool."

"Quite the contrary," he said, shaking his head, "Flames tend to be rather hot."

The woman huffed in slight annoyance, like she always did when he made some foolish word-joke. With her, he rarely could do better. Which didn't mean he didn't _try_; and he would have sworn by the three Norns that she had actually _liked_ them.

"Could you do it again?"

"I'm sorry?" Sigyn blushed slightly.

"What you were doing. With the flame."

"You... Can't do magic?"

"No. Is that so strange?"

Yes. Yes it was, because Sigyn had learnt the craft from Frigga herself, and have previously meddled in it as well.

Had the All-Father taken that from her, too? He felt the anger swell in his chest once again.

Was there _anything_ he left her from her life?

"All right. Come here," he said with a sigh, to calm himself down, bringing a ball of warm light into existence with a flick of his wrist. Sigyn regarded him with a suspicious glance.

"What are you doing?"

"You wish to learn. You can't do that by solely _watching_. Hold your hand out," Sigyn did so, curiosity beating back any misgivings she might have had. "Just so. Now concentrate on the ball. Try to gasp the size and shape in your mind, and will it to stay that way by feeding it your energy."

"_My_ energy?" Loki let out a soft laugh, earning a scowl from the slightly distressed woman.

"It'd recuperate in time," he explained, "But if you're scared, you can use the surrounding magic."

Sigyn looked baffled.

"The what?"

"You know about the three types of sorcerers, yes?"

"No," she shook her head, "My parents never let me do magic, let alone read a book about it so I might learn how to handle mine. After a while, I just pretended it didn't exist."

"Oh, dear," he passed the ball from one hand to the other, as Sigyn drew her palm back, "Then, a quick overview of it. As I said, there are three types - the ones who have much of it from birth, those who have some. Others are in-between, and they are the largest in numbers, and the most lucky, some find. Those who generally don't possess much of it usually do as you did, or become assistants to healers. Those with much are mostly warriors. Think about the Crown Prince of Asgard, or the Queen of Vanaheim. They have a good deal more than the in-betweeners, but they have much less control of it. Can you follow it so far?"

"Of course," she said, sounding highly offended, "That's because a larger quantity is harder to control already, I presume. Like when the army is too large and it takes half an hour for the command to get to every soldier."

"Precisely," he nodded, "Hence most never even try to learn to control their abilities, or use different artifacts to do so. Then, there are those in the middle. Curiously enough, most great sorcerers come from this group. See, they might not have that much magic like the first one, but this is just enough to have the surrounding magic respond to their will and channel that energy. This way "some" becomes "much", with a nearly endless supply. Those who are truly gifted can win a fight against those born with plenty of inner magic. If they have the wits not to stand in the way of an enraged buffoon whose greatest talent is bending the storms to his will," he said with some nostalgia. Sigyn smiled.

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is. And the aftermath is usually rather messy. What I'm trying to say is," he said, holding out his hand with the ball of light with it, "That using the magic in the room, you can keep this here alive."

"How are you so sure?" she asked sceptically. Loki smiled.

"Let's call it a gut feeling."

* * *

><p>Midgard has changed a lot in his absence.<p>

Last he visited, the humans still used horse-drawn carriages; now they were all sitting in metal boxes with rubber wheels which ran around like ants. The small wooden houses were gone, replaced by buildings reaching almost as high as a medium-sized tower of Asgard's Royal Palace, although a good deal uglier.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" he asked Sigyn. She now sported clothes which would allow her to merge in with the crowds; blue trousers humans called "jeans", a grey long-sleeved shirt with a green coat. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she was holding a small bag he with the things he gathered over three days for her in it.

"Yes. The lady seemed rather kind; I believe we'll understand each other well. By the way, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you at first. My prince," she added quickly, "It's just that I've not been to Asgard for six centuries now, and I didn't think I'd bump into one on that particular moon..."

"Think nothing of it," he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could manage.

"I'm Groot," the floral colossus called out. She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

"And we mean it," Loki said, "If anything is wrong, don't be afraid to call."

"I won't be," she nodded, "Well, then... Thanks for everything. And for the lessons, as well. It was a pleasure."

The sorcerer didn't say anything, a feeling he had long ago forgotten present in his throat as he watched her descend from the hill, towards a dark-brown skinned woman, then turned and waved once more.

"It'll be better this way," Rocket said in a strange tone, "For the both of you."

"Yeah, I know."

"Come on then. You wanted to ask something from Old One-Eye, didn't you?"

"That I did," he agreed, tearing his eye away from the vehicle Midgardians called "car".


End file.
